Blind Alley Page 7

Or so they thought. There was no safety where Aldo was concerned. He was totally relentless and his patience was inexhaustible.

  So that's how patient Trevor must be. Jesus, it was hard. He'd never been this close before. Well, he had to be patient. Jane MacGuire was a bright beacon that Aldo wouldn't be able to resist and he only had to watch until the bastard ventured too close to the flame.

  Aldo would want to kill Jane with all due ceremony. No long-range rifle shot for him. And if he was right, the chances were good that Trevor would have time to get him before he could murder the girl.

  “The odds aren't nearly as good.”

  Well, Bartlett was wrong. The odds were always as good as the effort you made to make them come up a winner. He just had to divorce himself from all emotion and use intellect and logic. He had to forget that moment when he'd looked at Jane and seen the spirit and the vitality that shone from her face. She mustn't matter to him as a person, only as a means to an end. He'd made one mistake. He couldn't afford another one.

  Or Jane MacGuire would be dead within the next few days.

  It's definitely volcanic ash forensics found with Caroline Halliburton's body,” Christy said when Joe picked up the phone. “We're trying to determine from which volcano. No luck yet.”

  “Scotland Yard can't help?”

  “No conclusions about the ashes found with the other victims.”

  “That's what Trevor said. How the hell did he know if he's not connected with the Yard?”

  “There's the obvious answer.”

  “Yeah.” And he should accept the probability. To hell with instinct. His training should dictate what he thought in this case. “Any report on Trevor?”

  “Not yet. No info on a Mark Trevor in their data banks and it takes a long time to get a photo match from a sketch. No report on the fingerprints either. They sent them out to Interpol. I'll let you know when I hear something.”

  “You'd better.”

  “How's Jane?”

  “Restless, impatient. A hell of a lot better than Eve and me. She doesn't like being cooped up.”

  “That sounds like Jane.” Christy chuckled. “But she's not dumb, Joe. She's not going to do anything foolish.”

  “What she considers foolish may not be what I consider foolish. She won't stay in the cottage. She says that having a police escort constantly on her heels is enough of a hassle without being made a total prisoner.”

  “A visible police guard is usually an effective deterrent, Joe.”

  “Usually.” He went to the window and watched Jane as she strolled down the lake path. Mac and Brian were several yards behind her but in clear sight and Toby was gamboling beside her. “I don't like to count on it. Get back to me the minute you hear anything.”

  “Any news?” Eve asked as he hung up the phone.

  “Volcanic ash. No location determined.” He turned to face her. “Nothing on Trevor.”

  “Dammit.” She joined him at the window. “What's the use of all this technology if they can't pull up information when you need it?”

  “Trevor impressed me as being very smart. He may not have any criminal record.”

  “Yes, he's smart. But he tipped his hand with us. And if he made one mistake, then he could have made others.” She frowned. “And no one is an island in this day and age. What about the fingerprints? Even if he doesn't have a criminal record, he must have gone to school, gotten a driver's license. Something . . .”

  “We're checking.” He slipped his arm around her waist, his gaze on Jane, who had just sat down on a log beside the lake. “It's only a matter of time.”

  He should be in hiding, Aldo thought. It was daylight and there might be more policemen than the two following the girl combing the woods. Screw it. He'd go to ground soon but he'd take this moment. It was the first time he'd been able to see her clearly.

  He gazed hungrily at the girl sitting on the log across the lake. She appeared totally unafraid and was truly exquisite. So confident in her youth and power. The young always thought they were immortal, but she should know better. Had she no memory?

  She must remember. She was just displaying her usual arrogance. She wouldn't admit to fear because she'd look upon it as a defeat.

  But she'd admit it soon. She'd look into his eyes and he'd see the terror.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Was he out there?

  Jane stared at the woods across the lake. She couldn't see anything, but she felt . . . something. It was weird to think of a man stalking you, wanting to kill you for no reason other than that he didn't like your face. It was crazy and she should be more afraid.

  She felt more than just fear. She was filled with curiosity and excitement and anger. The idea of prey and hunter intrigued her. What would he do if she became the stalker? If she tried to turn the tables on that creep?

  Not that she'd do anything like that, she thought regretfully. Eve and Joe would have a cow and there was no way she'd worry them. Eve was already too concerned about her after their talk last night. She'd understood Jane more than anyone else would have but in spite of her saying she had no right to judge, it had still troubled her. No, she wouldn't willingly cause Eve any more worry.

  But the key word was willingly. It wouldn't be her fault if she was drawn into the whirlpool Aldo was stirring. And she couldn't be expected not to fight back, could she?

  Jane picked up a rock and sent it skimming over the surface of the lake.

  Did you see that? Are you watching, Aldo?

  Yes, he was watching. She could feel it. He was close and getting closer. She would be forced to confront him soon.

  It was only a matter of time.

  We've got a report on Mark Trevor,” Christy said when she called that night. “Interpol came through.”

  Joe signaled Eve to pick up the extension. “Criminal record?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean ‘not exactly'? He has a record or he doesn't.”

  “He was on their watch list because of casino activity in Monte Carlo. Among other talents, he's a superb card counter. He took several casinos on the Riviera to the cleaners before they caught on to what he was doing and banned him. Since card counting is a talent and not a criminal activity they couldn't charge him, but the local police wanted to keep their eye on him. There was every chance one of the casinos would take a contract out on him.”

  “No other charges?”

  “Not so far as we can find out. But he must have forged identity documents as he moved from country to country. The name he used in Monte Carlo was Hugh Trent.”

  “A British citizen?”

  “No, the Brits can't believe they wouldn't have been able to find some record in their computers. They're very frustrated because they regard it as an insult to their professionalism.”

  “He sounded British.”

  “The casino in Monte Carlo thought he was French. The one in Germany was sure he was German. He evidently speaks several languages fluently. Every report indicates that he appeared to be well educated, brilliant, and slick as glass.”

  “And he doesn't have any history of violence?”

  “I didn't say that. When the Zurich casino was looking for Trevor to squeeze some of their money out of him, they ran across one of his contacts, Jack Cornell, who said he fought with him when he was a mercenary in Colombia. That was over ten years ago and Trevor wasn't much more than a kid, but he was one lethal son of a bitch.”

  “And still may be. The military can be a great training ground.”

  “You should know. You were in the SEALs, weren't you?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “And, kid or not, he could well have been seduced by the dark side.”

  “Dark side? Come on. You sound like something out of Star Wars.”

  “Do I? The phrase struck a note when I first heard it. Violence can be addictive if you don't pull yourself away fast.”

  “Maybe he did. Card counting is a mental exercise.” />
  “But very dangerous if you do it on the scale Trevor was playing. Like walking a tightrope. Serial killers get off on taking chances too. Did they find out anything on a personal level from Cornell?”

  “Not much. Cornell said that Trevor was quiet and never talked about himself. He was always reading or playing with those Rubik-type puzzles. He was a whiz at that kind of stuff. But once he did mention being in Johannesburg.”

  “At last, something concrete. And did Interpol follow up on it?”

  “Negative. There wasn't any reason. No crime and Trevor had disappeared from their radar scope. They have enough to do without borrowing trouble.”

  “Well, he's back on the scope with a vengeance now.”

  “And they're sending out feelers, but we may not get lucky anytime soon. I'll send you a copy of the fax I received from Scotland Yard and I'll let you know if we get anything else.” She hung up.

  “It's not much.” Eve replaced the receiver. “They don't even know his nationality.”

  “It's more than we knew before.”

  “We know he's brilliant and shady and was trained to kill. That's not very encouraging.”

  The bell on the machine signaled the incoming fax.

  “Are we going to let Jane read about our Mr. Trevor's past?” Joe asked.

  “Hell, yes. We tell her anything we can that will cause her to stop identifying with him. A mercenary isn't a role model.” She went over to the fax machine and took out the two pages. “Besides, she'd resent it if we tried to keep anything from her. I don't blame her. So would I.”

  Joe nodded. “You're a lot alike.” He smiled. “But I'm not sure that she's going to instantly condemn him for that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn't.” He opened the screen door. “And she's a lot like me, too.”

  The lights in the cottage went out.

  Soon she'd be sleeping, Aldo thought. She'd be lying defenseless in her bed not realizing how close he was to her. He might be able to climb in her window and—

  No, he might be able to kill her but he'd never be able to do it as it should be done. No quick, merciful death for her. He'd disposed of even her counterfeits with the usual ceremony and he wasn't about to cheat himself of the pleasure with the true Cira.

  So, watch and wait?

  No, he couldn't stand to do that. Not this time. Not with her.

  Then find a way to bring her to him and put an end to waiting. Make her kneel as he had those other women. Submission was hateful to her and the perfect revenge.

  Yes, that was what he had to do. Make her come to him.

  You have to come this way. Don't be foolish.” His voice echoed behind her as she ran down the tunnel.

  Whose voice? she wondered hazily. That's right, the man who had come out of the smoke and was standing at the fork of the tunnel. But she didn't know him. . . .

  No, that wasn't true. Jane didn't know him but she did. Antonio. His name exploded out of nowhere and with it came all the memories, bitterness, and anger again. “I'd be foolish to believe you. I won't make that mistake again. I know what you want.”

  “Yes, I want it. But I also want you alive. This isn't the time for battles.”

  At least he was being honest.

  Or clever. Antonio was always clever. It was the quality that had first drawn her to him. Clever and self-serving and ruthless. But she had those same qualities and had no argument with them.

  Until he had turned them against her.

  “Why do you think I followed you?” There was anger in his voice. “I know the way. I could have left you to die.”

  “Or you could get me lost in this cave and then tell me you won't show me the way out until I give you what you want. Do you think I don't know that you always take advantage of every opportunity, Antonio?”

  “Of course you do. Because we're alike. That's why you took me for your lover. You didn't trust me, but you knew me. You looked at me and it was like looking in a mirror. You could see every scar and feel the hate and the hunger that drives you.”

  “I wouldn't have betrayed you.”

  “I made a mistake. I'd been poor too long. I didn't realize that you were more important than—”

  “Liar.” Hot. It was getting hotter and her lungs felt tight and sore.

  “Yes, I'm a liar and a cheat and I've been a thief. But I'm not lying now. Let me help you.”

  “Go away. I'll help myself. Just like I've always done.”

  “Then die, damn you.” His tone was harsh. “But you'll die alone. I'm going to live and become rich as an emperor and make the earth shake at the wave of my hand. What do I care if you burn, Cira?”

  “I didn't ask you to care if—”

  He was no longer there. His shadow had disappeared from the tunnel opening.

  Alone.

  Shake off this despair. She'd always been alone. This was no different. She'd been right to depend only on herself. He had betrayed her once and it was clear he was as ambitious as ever. Even if he knew the way out, he might have turned her over to Julius at the end of the tunnel.

  But he wanted to live and he hadn't followed her down this tunnel. He had taken the path on the left. If he did know the way out, then she would be stupid to be stubborn and continue on this course. She had no idea how to get out of here. She would follow him down the other path. He would not have to know she was behind him. Use him as he had used her.

  She turned and started back toward the branch of the tunnel. The earth was becoming hot beneath her sandals and the rocks on her right were beginning to glow dimly in the darkness. Her pace quickened as she felt a surge of panic.

  There wasn't much time. . . .

  Jane was panting as she opened her eyes.

  Hot. She couldn't breathe.

  No, that was Cira.

  Jane wasn't in the tunnel. She was lying in bed, in the cottage. She lay still and drew several long, deep breaths. In a few minutes her heartbeat steadied and she sat up. She should be used to this aftereffect but it was always new and terrifying. But this time it hadn't been as horrible as usual. The panic had been present but there had also been hope. Cira had thought she had found a way to bend fortune to suit herself as she usually did. She was always happier when she could take action.

  And how was Jane so certain of that? Who the devil knew? Maybe she was echoing Antonio's words and Cira was Jane's mirror image. It felt strange to know Cira's name without understanding how she knew it. Or maybe Cira was some kind of manifestation of a split personality.

  No, she wouldn't accept that explanation. She wasn't nuts and she didn't have any alter egos running around in her head. So she had weird dreams. They didn't do her any real harm and she found Cira fascinating. Every dream was like turning the pages of a novel and discovering something new with every sentence. If that story became a little too exciting at times and she woke scared to death, that went with the territory.

  At least she evidently hadn't been screaming or whimpering this time or she would have had Eve or Joe running in here. She swung her feet out of bed and padded to the bathroom to get a glass of water. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was almost three in the morning and in a few hours Eve would be getting up and starting to work. She didn't need to get up early and come in here to comfort Jane, she thought as she padded to the bathroom. She would get a glass of water and then go out in the living room and cuddle Toby on the couch until she was drowsy enough to go back to sleep.

  She suddenly stiffened.

  There was something wrong.

  She turned to look at the Orvis dog bed on the floor beside her bed.

  “Toby?”

  SIX

  Toby's red collar was lying on the top porch step.

  Jane slowly knelt to pick it up and saw a piece of paper fastened to it.

  She heard the howl as she straightened.

  Panic soared through her. “Toby! Toby, come.”

  Another howl. Far away. A
cross the lake.

  She started down the porch steps and then stopped.

  Bait for a trap. It couldn't be clearer. She should call Joe and Eve.

  She slowly unfolded the note on the collar.

  Come alone and the dog will live.

  The implication was clear. If she didn't come alone, Toby would die. If she called the policemen in the squad car or Joe and Eve and set them to searching the woods, her Toby would not live through the night. Agony twisted through her at the thought.

  “Is everything okay, Ms. MacGuire?”

  She looked up to see Mac Gunther walking toward her from the squad car.

  No, it wasn't okay, she wanted to scream at him. Toby . . .

  Her hand holding the collar slipped behind her back. She forced a smile. “Fine, Mac. Just getting a breath of air. I couldn't sleep.”

  “Can't blame you.” He smiled sympathetically. “But let us know when you decide to come out on the porch. You gave us a start.”

  “Sorry. I didn't think.” She turned and started up the steps. “I'll just go back to bed. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  She watched him turn and stroll back to the squad car as she opened the screen door. Give it a little time before she slipped away.

  She heard Toby howl as it closed behind her.

  “No,” she whispered as she closed her eyes in pain. “You dirty bastard, stop it. I'm coming.”

  The howling pierced the night like a knife.

  Bartlett jumped. “Jesus, what the hell was that? A wolf?”

  Trevor began to curse. “Son of a bitch.” He straightened away from the tree. “He's got her dog.”

  “What?”

  “I'd bet on it. It's her dog, Toby. I've been here three nights and never heard that dog howl before.”

  “That doesn't mean— Where are you going?”

  “I'm going to follow the sound,” Trevor said curtly as he faded into the shrubbery. “Just like she's going to do.”

  “Should I go with you?”

  “Hell, no. Go to the car and wait for me to call you. You make too much noise in the woods. If he hears you crashing through the brush, Aldo will kill the dog and then Jane MacGuire will kill both of us. She loves that dog.”